


King Me

by Lexalicious70



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M, Shameless Smut, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexalicious70/pseuds/Lexalicious70
Summary: King Idri makes it his personal mission to bring his new husband and Quentin Coldwater closer together during a Fillorian dinner party.





	King Me

**Author's Note:**

> Several friends asked for this on Tumblr, and I took up the challenge. I really hope you like the results! It's kind of AU-ish, some characters are absent, hope that's not an issue. Feedback is magic! Enjoy.

King Me

By Lexalicious70 (aka Neptune_Rising70 or TheChampagneKing70)

 

King Idri, the High King of Loria, was many things.

 

He was wise, loyal to his people, and when the occasion called for it, he could be ruthless in the protection of his land. But he was also quietly observant, and just as he’d noticed how attractive Eliot Waugh, the High King of Fillory was the first time he’d seen him, that observance was now shifting to how his new husband treated the other Fillorian king, Quentin Coldwater.

 

Idri noticed it right away, of course. The way Eliot’s eyes focused on Quentin whenever he entered a room, no matter what else was happening, the way he found a hundred small reasons to stand close to him, the way he touched Quentin’s shoulder when the younger magician made him laugh—and how it lingered there more often than not.

 

Of course, Idri remembered young love . . . his late wife, Irianna, had been betrothed to him at a very tender age and they’d found love the same way: in a slow, hesitant dance that had blossomed into a passionate relationship and had lasted nearly twenty-five years. He sensed that same timid nature in Quentin, an otherwise-powerful magician who fluttered around Eliot the way a beautiful but fragile butterfly hovers around a particularly delectable flower but isn’t quite confident enough to land and sample it. Idri knew he had to give these young men a gentle push in the right direction. After all, Eliot was his husband, and he didn’t mind sharing their bed with another king, especially one so clearly besotted with Eliot.

 

Idri’s chance came sooner than expected, when Eliot invited him to dinner. Queen Margo was off on an errand with the group’s traveler to search for a spell to help them guard the wellspring from further harm, leaving Eliot and Quentin on their own. It was the first time Idri had visited his husband since the death of Eliot’s wife, Fen, who had died after being thrown from her horse about a month earlier. With Eliot’s child lost to the fairies, Eliot’s response to Idri’s proposed visit, in typical Waughian fashion, was to throw the three of them a lavish dinner party in Fen’s honor and to celebrate the fact that Penny had brought Eliot a case of mango wine during his last trip to earth (with the condition that he share it liberally with the traveler, of course.) With a lack of decent alcoholic beverages in the land, Eliot had little room to argue.

 

And so it was that Idri found himself at the royal dining table with his husband and Quentin Coldwater. Eliot’s servants brought plates of food and refilled their glasses with the mango wine. Idri worked to coax Quentin out of his shell as they ate and drank, and after an hour or so, he began to relax and smile easier. Eliot refilled Quentin’s glass again and Quentin divided his gaze between the honey-colored flow of wine and Eliot’s amber eyes.

 

“It’s getting cold in here. I suppose winter’s coming on. Perhaps if we moved our gathering into the bedroom?” Idri suggested.

Eliot’s hand paused at corking the wine bottle. Quentin nearly sloshed his full glass of wine onto his white Fillorian shirt.

 

“Shit.” He said quietly, and Eliot set the wine bottle down to regard his husband with curiosity.

 

“The bedroom.”

 

“Yes, Eliot. I believe you know it?  Comfortable furniture, a cozy fireplace, a large feather bed we could occupy?” Idri said, and Eliot tipped his chin upward in consideration. Quentin watched them, taking long pulls on his wine.

 

“All right.” Eliot said suddenly, decisively, and rose from his chair in that effortlessly elegant way he did things, whether it was dueling or making pasta or kissing a man he desired. His gold brocade jacket glittered in the torchlight. He grabbed two bottles of the mango wine and glanced back at Quentin as Idri followed him.

 

“Come along, Q.”

 

“Uhm, El? We—”

 

“Come on!” Eliot smiled, and that smile was like a magnet, drawing Quentin after the two other men. He gave the demolished meal on the table a backward glance.

 

“Tick and the others will clean that up. Come on!”

 

Eliot waved a hand at the complicated candle-lit chandelier in the bedchamber, and it flickered to life, the cut crystals illuminating the room but letting playful shadows shift in the corners. A massive feather bed, covered with a duvet the color of blooming orchids, dominated the room, but Eliot hadn’t slept in it since Fen’s death. While he had never been able to properly deal with his wife’s sexual advances, he didn’t enjoy sleeping alone either and had since retreated into Margo’s rooms down the hall. Sleeping in her bed offered Eliot warmth and comfort without the pressure of having to operate equipment he wasn’t familiar with or particularly cared to touch.

 

“Shall we get comfortable?” Idri asked, setting his glass down on the nightstand as he shrugged off his outer jacket. This left him in a low-cut white shirt that showed off a great deal of his mahogany-colored chest. Eliot loosened the fasteners on his own jacket as well, and Idri took his hand.

 

“You children of earth. There’s so much you don’t know about Fillorian or Lorian custom. For example, do you know that kings regularly bed their allies? Other kings . . . to ensure peace?”

 

“They do?” Quentin asked, his throat dry despite the wine, and Idri wound his dark fingers around Eliot’s.

“Oh yes.” He shifted his gaze to Quentin. “After all, being generous is one of the most important qualities in a king. Wouldn’t you agree?”

 

“I . . . uhm, yeah. Yeah! Of course.” Quentin nodded, and Idri went to him, Eliot’s fingers still entwined in his. The younger magician was a good deal smaller than both himself and Eliot, and it roused something protective in the Lorian king. He touched Quentin’s hair, the colors a mix of oak and tawny gold in the candlelight.

 

“I can’t help but notice how attractive you are, Quentin. Eliot, have you noticed?”

 

“Oh yes.” It’s almost a chuckle but Eliot’s hand tightened around Idri’s in a spasm of surprise or arousal, the Lorian king couldn’t tell which. “I’ve noticed.”

 

Idri took Quentin’s glass from him and set it aside before taking his right hand. He stroked his thumbs over the tops of both men’s hands, smiling at the difference in size and texture. Quentin’s skin was freckled where Eliot’s was pale and unblemished, the path of the delicate veins similar yet unique. Idri tugged Quentin closer and then stepped back a bit until Eliot and Quentin faced each other.

 

“You’re both beautiful.” He observed. “And I think you should kiss each other.”

 

Quentin’s eyes widened but Eliot’s closed partway, as if Idri had read his mind. He lowered his mouth to Quentin’s, gauging his response on the way, but Quentin didn’t pull away. His full lips parted slightly and Eliot matched them with his own. They were sweet and sticky with mango wine and Eliot’s body tingled with sensory memory—Quentin had tasted like wine and something sweet and spicy last time as well, only this time there were no emotion bottles, no terror mixed with a desperate desire for contact, only mutual desire. Quentin returned the kiss like he’d been waiting for it, and Idri dropped their hands to stroke his down each of their backs instead. He unfastened Eliot’s jacket the rest of the way and slid it off him, leaving him in his matching vest and white shirt. Another few deft movements of his clever dark hands had these whisked away after a few moments, and Quentin found himself facing Eliot’s bare chest, pale and lean with a fan of fine dark hair across his pecs. Idri smiled.

 

“Let’s move to the bed.” He suggested, putting an arm around them both. Eliot grabbed a bottle of wine and drank from it directly as he sat down, then passed it to Idri, who took a swallow as well. As Quentin took his turn with the bottle, Idri pulled the tail of Quentin’s shirt from his breeches and worked the buttons open. Eliot watched, licking his lips, as Idri peeled the shirt from Quentin’s body as if he was helping him shed a second skin.

 

“There we are. That’s much better.” Drawing on what he already knew about his new husband, Idri pushed Eliot onto his back and picked up the open wine bottle. He took another long swig and then dribbled some into the hollow of Eliot’s elegant throat, watching it pool there before he leaned over and noisily sucked it off. Eliot gave a low moan of desire and Idri flicked a glance up at Quentin to make sure he was watching. Eliot began to squirm as Idri poured a fine line of amber liquid down his pecs and then moved back.

 

“Come have a drink, Quentin. The wine is twice as sweet when sipped off the lovely skin of the High King.”

 

Quentin swallowed hard and then leaned forward to slurp up the long line of wine from Eliot’s pecs. Eliot gave a short, sharp intake of air and Quentin shivered as Idri’s big hand stroked his bare back.

 

“Very good, Quentin. That’s very good.” Idri leaned over and brushed Quentin’s hair aside to kiss the back of his neck. “Now, taste his nipples. They’re just as sweet!” He carded a hand through Quentin’s hair as the young magician lowered his mouth to Eliot’s chest. His tongue flicked out to taste one caramel-colored bud and then the other, his eyes widening a bit as they hardened under his tongue. He’d never really considered his own nipples as a particular source of pleasure, as messing with them had always made him feel weirdly kinky, but Eliot apparently had no such qualms, as he put a hand on Quentin’s head and gripped his hair lightly.

 

“Q, fuck, yes . . .oh shit, don’t stop . . .” He moaned, and Quentin glanced down as something pressed insistently at his thigh. It was Eliot’s cock, still trapped under his breeches, and Idri reached out to cup it with one hand. Eliot gasped and arched up into the touch.

 

“We should get more comfortable.” Idri’s deep voice spoke in Quentin’s ear, and Quentin nodded.

 

“Yes, that’s—comfortable. Good.” He nodded, and with the Lorian king’s help, three pairs of pants fell into a heap at the side of the bed. Quentin was half hard, arousal coiled in his lower belly, and Eliot was well on his way to being fully erect. Quentin stared at the dripping tip and he got up on all fours to lean toward it. Idri sat behind him, stroking both hands over the pale cheeks of Quentin’s ass.

 

“Do you desire to taste something else now, King Quentin?” He grinned, and Eliot paused in his moaning long enough to magic open a nearby drawer. A tube of lube flew across the room and slapped into his hand, and Idri chuckled. He knew that while Quentin and Eliot were exploring their relationship, the younger magician king was still a virgin in the way that mattered to Eliot, and that he couldn’t be the one to pluck that delectable cherry. However, he could introduce Quentin to what kind of pleasures he could experience with Eliot—perhaps both of them—if he understood the inner workings of his own body.

 

“That’s it . . . yes, taste him.” Idri whispered, watching Quentin hesitantly lap at the head of Eliot’s cock as he covered his own long fingers with lube. Quentin’s ass bobbed and swayed in front of him and as Eliot reached forward and tugged on Quentin’s hair, trying to encourage him to take more of his cock, Idri worked his index finger between Quentin’s ass cheeks and pressed forward. Quentin gasped and Eliot grinned as he watched his friend’s dark eyes widen.

 

“Ohhhhh . . .?” Quentin breathed, and Idri added another finger. Quentin’s fingers clenched into the duvet, drawing the material up between them. Idri waited, knowing the young magician’s skittish nature, but then he shuddered out a breath and pushed back into the questing finger, so Idri added another. Quentin tilted his chin upward and then shifted forward slightly to suck a quarter of Eliot’s cock into his mouth. Eliot let out a sharp gasp and his dark hair fell back against the pillows. His crown went askew and he reached up to tug it off and set it aside. It tousled his dark curls, a look that Idri liked on him immensely. He used his other hand to lightly slap Quentin’s ass.

 

“Suck, Quentin. Suck on your high king’s beautiful cock!” He commanded, and Quentin went to work with eagerness if not experience. He took as much as he could into his mouth and started to suck, his head bobbing, and Irdi rewarded him with an angling and spreading of his fingers. He pressed up against Quentin’s prostate and the young man responded with a high-pitched hum of disbelief that made Eliot’s back arch off the bed.

 

“Fuck! Fuck, Q, oh God please—” He moaned, his lean hips rolling, and Idri chuckled. He looked forward to making the High King beg all over again later, but first things first. He matched the thrusting of his fingers with the rhythm of Quentin’s bobbing head, making sure he kept the young magician humming and moaning. Eliot gripped the duvet and then lifted his hands to stroke his own nipples, his handsome face a study in lust. Quentin’s eyes rolled and Idri felt his wet, velvety muscles clench hard around his fingers. Idri stopped thrusting and pressed firmly and repeatedly against Quentin’s prostate, like he was ringing a doorbell. Quentin pulled most of the way off Eliot’s cock as he started to spurt onto the duvet and his own tensing belly, but the friction triggered Eliot’s orgasm as well. He gasped deep in his chest, his cheeks and neck flushing rose as he shuddered. Quentin made a surprised noise and pulled off the rest of the way to catch the rest of Eliot’s hot issue full in the face. Idri’s own arousal spiked sharply as he watched it drip off Quentin’s chin and he curled his free hand around his erection. Quentin watched over one shoulder, still breathing hard, as Eliot slowly reclined against the pillows and watched through heavy-lidded eyes, the amber depths gleaming. The knowledge that both men were watching spurred Idri on and he came only moments later, the jets reaching as high as his chest. He pulled away from Quentin, who rolled over Eliot’s splayed long legs to curl up next to him. Eliot pulled him close.

 

“Shhh, Q. You okay, hmm?” Eliot kissed him a few times, gently, and Quentin nodded.

 

“I’m okay, El. Wow. That . . .” He glanced up at Idri as the Lorian king reclined into Eliot’s other arm. He and Quentin stared at each other across the narrow expanse of Eliot’s chest.

 

“That?” Idri asked, smiling, and Quentin rested his head against Eliot’s arm.

 

“Amazing.” He said at last, and then his eyelids grew heavy. Idri tugged down the duvet and then pulled it up and over the three of them before settling down next to Eliot, who drew them both close. He and Quentin were asleep moments later, swimming in a languid sea of post-coital slumber, and Idri chuckled as he rested his head on Eliot’s chest and breathed in his familiar scent.

 

_Being royalty isn’t always easy_ , he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and let the rhythmic breathing of his lovers usher him into sleep.

 

_But it certainly does have its privileges_.

 

FIN

 

 

 

 


End file.
